The Imperial Kingdom of Eden
by Trex
Summary: What once was started as a joke has actually become a small sucessful Kingdom. But what will happen when two young royals decide that its size is not big enough?


The Imperial Kingdom of Eden 

By Trex

_Disclaimer: _STAR TREK(R) and all related trademarks and copyrights used by this game are the property of Paramount Pictures Corporation. This work of fanfiction is intended for non - profit and entertainment purposes only and is in no way assuming intellectual property for any previously registered trademarks and copyrights. This disclaimer is pursuant to US Copyright Law (Chapter 1, Section 107 and Chapter 1, Section 117).

_Forward: _The following is my imagination's view of the future of the alternate-universe theme from the role-playing game "Where No One Has Gone Before", in which the _Enterprise_ never rescued Captain Picard from the Borg, and the result was the Borg War and alliance of the major powers in the Alpha and Beta quadrants.

Chapter One 

_"Good day, your royal highnesses."_

"Main reactor shut-down.  Establishing docking support. This vessel is now under External Support Mode. We have established dock with Eden Post," sounds the smooth tenor voice of the ship's computer; A voice with a thick Terran Gaelic accent that serves as one of the most efficient means of communicating with a starship. Yet for the young man who has just entered the Bridge of this vessel from his office, such an odd computer is nothing of a surprise. 

The Bridge of the large starship found itself darkened, as those were the tastes of its young commanding officer, and seemed to hold a healthily large crew. One such crewman stands from the large plush Captain's Chair and bows. "We've arrived home, my lord. All systems are on shut down and we have received word that the Royal Court will be meeting within the hour." However, the royal merely waves his hand and proceeds off of the Bridge. Left to look after him, the crewman merely called after him. "M-Marquis Ghent?"

Young and brash, the Marquis Ghent Trasera was a rather formidable young man. Short reddish-black hair was cropped close to his round head; his side burns reaching all the way down to his jaw. His eyes are a unique violet color, taken from his grandmother most likely, and his small impish nose seems to come from his grandfather. His frame stood lithe in the large uniform of a member of royalty, the long sword clasped to his side swinging freely while his tall black boots clicked with each step. Indeed, the Marquis seems almost breathtaking in sight, and his presence commands obedience . . . well, in that young and brash kind of way.

As Ghent stepped off of the turbolift of his flagship, the _Scientia_, two heavily armored members of the Royal Guard joined him. Shining metal rested over their forms while both a sword and large disruptor rested on their sides; The guards following just behind to make sure no harm came to young man. This small group continued through the airlock and out onto the station and through its halls until they came upon a large room: The Royal Court.

Seated around the massive wooden table were all sorts of people and races that made up the diverse Kingdom of Eden. An Avian, a pair of Caitians, a Ferengi, and a Bajoran all dressed in their regality sat quietly waiting for the meeting to begin when a pair of large double doors opened to the rear and a woman dressed in a massive dress from the Terran Victorian era slowly walks into the room. Ghent takes this as his motion to enter and does so as well, both meeting their respective ends at the same time.

"I call the Royal Court to order." came the demanding voice of the young female, her dark eyes glancing at all those gathered around her. At once all present rose and nodded before the woman smoothed the burgundy dress and all sat. "As you are all aware, King Trasera the first has professed the desire to retire. His wishes are for the Court to honor his decision and appoint his children, Marquis Ghent and myself as King and Queen of the Kingdom. After the unfortunate deaths of Lord Dylan and his wife, we are the only remaining blood relatives."

Whispering erupted around the table. Dylan gazed into the eyes of the woman, a Marquises Mara Savloo-Trasera, just as the whispering became mumbling. And the mumbling became speaking. And the speaking became arguing. It took only minutes before the entire ruling body of the Kingdom was up in arms. Yet it took only one motion to silence them: the slamming of a fist upon the wooden table. At once, all looked towards Mara as she stood at the fore and glared. "SILENCE!" was called and echoed throughout the marble room loudly. "Ghent and I shall vacate the room while you discuss and vote, bearing in mind that our votes are not void in this matter." And before anyone could argue, she picked up the front of her dress, walked around the table, and taking the arm of Ghent, made her way out of the room.

In the safety of Mara's office, the two hugged each other and began pondering out loud.

"Do you think they will agree to it?" Ghent said as he hoisted himself up and sat on the desk.

"Of course they will. They all worship the ground grandfather walks on." was her only reply. Meanwhile, the dark haired long dressed Marquises poured two glasses of Champaign and offered one to her twin.

"To us."

"To us."

Yet before they could even enjoy the sparkling drink a soft tone chimed, and the door opened to reveal an old white-haired man walking with an equally old cane. His form stayed concealed in the shadows by the door and all were silent until his weak voice finally spoke.

"Good day, your royal highnesses."


End file.
